Check the Mirror, Sweetheart
by Dubious.Mischief.Maker
Summary: Why shouldn't I let him crash at my place? I won't fall for him This isn’t a story for children. ;; there’s definitely some language… and later on some violence and slightly mature themes. I gave you fair warning. romance/drama/crime
1. Alive barely

Title: Check the Mirror, Sweetheart

DemyxRoxas

Chapter Title: Alive (barely)

Summary: "What happened? '_My face._' Ha. Okay. Seriously though."

Warning: Um. This isn't a story for children. ^_^;; there's definitely some language… and later on some violence and slightly mature themes. I gave you fair warning!!!

"Ooh baby you're too pure

You're too pure for this

Wicked world.

Your date is uncorrupted

But does something

Skip inside you?"

He looked like shit. No exaggeration. Demyx Mizuki smelled as if he had ran a marathon, tripped, but kept running, a week or two ago, and sure as hell showed it.

"Can I crash here for the night?"

'Sure. And take a shower. Then bleach the tub and burn the towel you use.'

As much as I wanted to say it, I just didn't have the heart to.

"Sure, Dem. As long as I get the story tomorrow. And if you take a damned shower."

… So I slipped. Boo-frickin'-hoo. The blonde grinned anyways and nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks." I let my loner friend in and shut the door.

"I'm going back to bed. You wake me for anything short of my mother or father calling me from their death beds and I'll rip your dick off and feed it to a raccoon." I grumbled, throwing a towel at Demyx and flopping back onto my bed. He laughed and shook his head.

"Sure, man. Thanks."

COFFEE. My savior.

I sighed contentedly as I sunk a bit more into my chair, coffee in hand. I had the craziest dream last night, too. Demyx came over, and he was such a mess. Like he was running from the law or something. And for some reason I threatened him with a raccoon… Raccoons are nocturnal. And they like to eat my garbage… I wish I had a rifle… and I could take care of the raccoon problem…

"Morning, Roxas." A sudden voice greeted my ears.

"JAYSUSFRIGGINCHRISTMAS!" I soon had a lap full of hot Hot HOT coffee, which led to many more expletives and me racing to my bedroom to change. Around ten minutes later, after soothing my semi-burnt thighs and changing, albeit uncomfortable in my current state, I emerged from my room. I entered the kitchen to see Demyx reading the paper in **my** seat… and eating the breakfast **I** had made for **myself**.

"We're going to forget what happened." I said, pouring myself a new cup of coffee (no, I will never learn my lesson).

"Forget what?" He asked casually.

'_Thank you, God!'_ "I don't know. SO. What br…" My sentence trailed off and lingered as soon as I noticed a harsh gash on Demyx's face, going from the bridge of his nose to his lower left jaw.

"What the hell happened to YOU?"

"… my face." Demyx replied, munching on my toast. Which is when I reclaimed my meal, much to his dismay.

"Ha. Okay. Seriously though."

He filled me in on quite a tale and I almost had a hard time believing it. But then I remembered who I was talking to. Of COURSE he would get caught up in shit with shady people for borrowing $500 for food, a pretty whore, and a tuner for his sitar, which now lay broken and abandoned in some alleyway downtown.

"And you crashed here **why**?" He chucked nervously and scratched the back of his head.

"Ummm… they know where I live?"

'_Are you shitting me? Really? How stupid can you get?! If they followed him HERE I'm fucking kicking his ASS.'_ I gave him an irritated look and sighed.

"Well, since you can't friggin GO HOME…" I muttered, rubbing my forehead. "Yeah, I guess I can help you out. But you will owe me SO much." It was really tough to think in the morning. "I ain't gonna give you all of it right away, so you can, like, be my maid or something." I chuckled at the thought of Demyx in a maid outfit.

"You're so fucked up, Roxas. Really. Now get your mind out of the gutter." The blonde said. "I will NOT dress up like a maid."

I stopped my chortling and looked him dead in the eye. "Do you want me to help with the $500 or not?" I almost died of laughter from the look on his face. I looked upon his reaction, which was a mixture of horror, curiosity, and revulsion. I wish I had a camera.

"I hate you."

"Oh, of course you do. Who doesn't?" I laughed half-heartedly and drank some of my coffee. "So, I'll pay you… lets see… I can really only give you about 25 or 30 dollars a week."

"And I have my job over at Pac Sun. Which pays me $25 for the one day a week that I work there."

"Why yes you do, you pretentious bitch. So, that means you'll be out of here… 2 and a half months."

'_Fuck my life.'_

"Unless, of course, you could give me more money…" Demyx prodded.

"Don't push it."

A/N: Yeah, I didn't say this up top, but this is dedicated to CherryFlavoredChalk. Because she actually got me writing again. Peace out, Holmes. Oh. And the song. Thanks to The Posies.


	2. All These Lives

Title: Check the Mirror, Sweetheart

DemyxRoxas

Chapter Title: All These Lives

Summary: "What happened? '_My face._' Ha. Okay. Seriously though."

Warning: Um. This isn't a story for children. ^_^;; there's definitely some language… and later on some violence and slightly mature themes. I gave you fair warning!!!

"She can't breathe anymore

Can't deny what we know

They're gonna find you, just believe

You're not a person

You're a disease."

'They look like a shady bunch…'

Well, if THAT wasn't the understatement of the century. We were a terror, and if you had beef with us, you had a ticket to the ER. I never got my hands dirty, though. No one, well, not no one… anyone besides our gang couldn't understand why ME, Olette Tokikamori, would choose them as my people. Why a pretty girl like me couldn't be nice.

They'll never know. Two people know.

Me and her.

And that's enough for me.

**SHE** is enough for me.

* * *

He keeps us in line.

(Most certainly)

We do what he tells us to, and we get our pay.

(Good boys and girls)

You don't NOT do what Xigbar says.

(It's foolish and unheard of)

If you don't…

(Don't expect anything less than the worst)

He commands respect. In formalities and informalities.

(Don't you DARE look me in the eye)

(After what you've done)

* * *

She looks like sugar, but she stings like acid. I can't get enough of her… maybe my sadism is turning on me. I wouldn't be surprised.

She wouldn't, either.

Xigbar calls us his pets. Dolls. Playthings.

That's all we are to him.

So that's why she's everything to me.

… But that's a secret. Forever.

If Xigbar knew… hell, if **Xaldin** knew…

We would both be toast.

Burnt.

* * *

I see their looks. Their gazes. Their objects of sickening affection.

The whores are in love.

(Funny, I thought whores couldn't love.)

She was originally mine.

She was my Larxene.

But she became Olette's bitch after I dropped her whore ass.

Olette, the little prom queen if she tried hard enough.

We only keep her around because she's fucking hot, and she knows how to play a guy.

We're not allowed to touch her. Lexaeus learned the hard way.

You can ask him yourself. Ask him why he wears a patch over his eye.

He'll never tell you the real reason why. Too ashamed.

I keep myself at bay. Xigbar can't tell that the dykes are fuck-buddies.

It's all crystal clear to me, though.

And I hate them for it. The brunette slut has everything I've ever wanted.

I'll get her back. I swear. Extreme measures?

Bring it on.

* * *

**I** make them _dance_.

_They're_ nothing to **me**.

They are nothing.

Nothing but broken spirits inside a corporeal figure.

How were they broken?

**Me**.

I am a _monster_.

I break them and make them dependant on me and me alone.

We have Olette, our wonderful succubus. Lexaeus, a delightful smooth talker. Larxene, the female brawn who is not afraid to get her hands dirty, and Xaldin, who is the male equivalent of Larxene, but stronger and more fierce.

I've broken every one of them.

I've made them cry.

And there's not an ounce of regret or shame in me.

* * *

'_Fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life!'_ I was NOT made to be a runner. I played sitar. And drank coffee. And worked at Pac Sun.

I AM NOT AN ATHELETE. But damn am I running fast.

This guy chasing me has to be THE scariest person I've ever seen.

He's around 6'5'', 250 lbs. of pure muscle and FUCK he has the scariest eyes!

I keep running, looking for a safe place to hide until my little friend (stalker/potential murderer) goes away. I spot a playground about 200 yards from me, and I make a mad dash for it, hiding in a hollow plastic rock that kids play on.

I can barely hear his footsteps over the beating of my adrenaline enhanced heartbeat. The footsteps die down, and he is gone.

I dig into my pocket and realize my cell phone isn't there. I search frantically for it, to come to the conclusion that I don't have it anymore.

FUCK.

I decide not to worry about it, and that Roxas can wait until tomorrow morning to see me again… and bitch at me for not cooking him dinner…

I sigh to myself. What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

A/N: my colon button on my laptop isn't working correctly. DAMN IT. Reviews are lovely! Much love. Thank you to Daughtry for the lyrics!


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